Hi hello my lovely readers! I am actually very very excited about this chapter. It took a while because to be honest, I've been trying to work up the motivation to work on it, as well as some other reasons, but mainly that. I was bored with the fact that this is just a filler and I waned to get to all the good plot points and relationship developments I have in store! But alas, context is a thing. So I powered through and once I started, this chapter actually turned out to be my favorite that I've written so far! Who would have thought? Also, I wanted to apologize for always updating so late at night. I am definitely more of a night owl, it's when I do my best work because it's when I'm most relaxed and motivated. Great for writing, horrendous for cleaning. Anyways, I just wanted to thank you all for being wonderful enough to follow my story or favorite it, and also encourage reviews! I love to know what you guys are thinking, and I reply to each one. Go forth and read, enjoy!

If Hermione would have been asked if she would like the esteemed position of Head Girl even just six months ago, her light honey colored eyes probably would have grown twice their normal size in attempted contained excitement. The truth was, the thought of becoming Head Girl was a dream of Hermione's ever since she had overheard Percy Weasley talking about it at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall during second year. She tried not to make it seem too obvious, slouching the appropriate amount, keeping her eyes on the pages of the book in front of her, one hand on the page opposite the one she was reading and the other wrapped around a fork, making her seem indifferent to any of her surroundings.

When Percy had left the table early that evening to have his weekly meeting with his positions' counterpart, she finally allowed herself to process everything that he said. The young witch had learned how important it was to process important information in her first year when it was finally revealed that Quirrel was the culprit – that year at least- not Snape, and the first memory that had came to mind was setting Snape's robes on fire. She, Hermione Granger, had set a professor's robes aflame on an impulse, and decided that that was completely asinine and to try to not let herself slip in that way again. While she was thinking, she thought of everything that he said regarding the respect that the position required from other students and decided in that moment that she would become Head Girl, if for no other reason than to prove everyone who thought she was lesser because of her parentage wrong. The badge would be physical proof that yes, she was a muggleborn, and yes, she had earned this position rightfully.

And then everything turned to hell and she found her priorities shifting. The war became more tangible as the weeks turned into months and the months turned into years. Each increment bringing the fight closer and closer until Hermione could almost feel the breath of the first face-off in the shell of her ear, ghosting down her neck, and she knew the wait for the darkness of their reality to come face to face with them was soon coming to an end. She had been right, of course, in the assumption that the vision Harry received of Sirius being in danger was deliberately meant lure him to the Department of Mysteries for some ominous reason. But she refused to be the one standing between Harry and the potential rescue of his only family that he had left. At this point in their lives, Harry had become much like the brother she never had and she wasn't going to deny him the right to save the only real parental figure he had for himself, all she wanted was for him to be safe and happy.

Death eaters against children – that was her first fight in the name of the Light. Antonin Dolohov had wordlessly sent a spell her way in the Department of Mysteries that had looked like purple fire dancing her way before it hit her in the chest and everything went black. The duration of her stay in the hospital wing irked her, she saw no reason why she had to stay all day when she was perfectly capable of moving about on her own, thank you, and had looked right into Madame Pomfrey's face and argued this exact fact to the healer. Hermione would never tell anyone why, but from that day on anytime she was in the hospital wing she had listened to Madame Pomfrey's orders word for word unquestioningly.

Sixth year was the hardest. Everything was real. Everything that they had been preparing for was no longer a faint breath down her neck, it was a crazy cackle sending hexes her way meant to kill her, it was someone holding a wand to her throat with no mercy in their eyes, it was cold and cruel and made her feel dirty.

The Death Eaters grew bolder with their attacks, more public, and Hermione knew that her parents were in danger. There was not a Death Eater or sympathizer who didn't know Hermione as Harry Potter's mudblood sidekick, and she was positive that Voldemort would have her parents executed to get to her if the need presented itself. The day before she had left to stay at Grimmauld Place before returning for sixth year, she had packed everything in her room and shrunk it be able to fit in her pocket. She kissed her mum and daddy goodbye for one last time that night, and in the morning eliminated all evidence of her existence to them. Obliviating her parents was the most heart wrenching thing she had ever done, though she knew it would have been worse to mourn them. It was the right thing to do no matter which angle she tried to analyze the decision from, it would have been insanely selfish to keep them aware of her just because she would miss them, while simultaneously keeping them in danger.

On top of that, she wasn't doing as well in advanced potions as she anticipated which had her constantly frustrated, Harry's obsession with Malfoy's whereabouts was grating on her last nerve as was Ron and Lavender's incessant need to show their affection publicly every chance they got. It made her stomach drop and want to both vomit and cry at the same time, and Hermione had no clue how to approach the subject.

Maybe physically it wasn't her worst year, but mentally and emotionally Hermione had felt absolutely knackered. Then Dumbledore was murdered by someone she thought she could trust, and the Death Eaters invaded. The most powerful wizard on her side of the war was murdered and the safest place in the world she could think of had been compromised. In that moment, something snapped. She was tired of feeling betrayed by adults whom she had put her trust in, she was tired of feeling like she always had to figure out how to keep the ones she loved safe, she was tired of the fact that because of everything that's happened since coming to Hogwarts her body was stuck in fight-or-flight mode. So she ran. She needed to be alone, needed to think, needed to breathe –why couldn't she breathe- and made it to the prefect's bathroom. She put up silencing spells and warded the door so nobody could get in until she left, and screamed until her throat was raw. She unleashed everything she was feeling until she could actually taste the metallic tang of blood whenever she swallowed and realized that she was sobbing so hard that it didn't matter if she was still screaming or not.

After all the tears were gone, and she was left with a satisfyingly numb feeling, she walked up to the Gryffindor tower, climbed into bed, and didn't leave until two mornings later when Harry and Ron had had enough worrying and sent Ginny to drag her out of bed.

After sixth year ended, Hermione returned to Grimmauld Place to stay with Harry and Sirius. Members of The Order of the Phoenix came and went as it was headquarters, but for Hermione all that mattered was that she was with her brother. It could be headquarters for the entirety of Britain for all she bloody cared, but it had Harry, the closest thing she had to family left, so it was home.

The last thing Hermione remembered before waking up back in Grimmauld after her rescue was going out to get some take away under a glamour from a muggle café around the corner, and that was it. She had no recollection of anything that happened after that, and a strong suspicion that someone had placed a charm on her memories because every time she tried to remember anything, she automatically got distracted by something else and her head would pound until it was unbearable and she stopped trying to focus. She still hadn't decided if she wanted them back at all.

Then the witch was waking up in Grimmauld and being fawned over by Mrs. Weasley before rushing off into battle beside the two people who meant the most to her now. And they had won. Sunshine was breaking through the darkness, and she could breathe for the first time in what felt like forever. Yes, it smelled of smoke and blood whenever she inhaled, but she could do it now and feel a weight lifted, not just because if she stopped she would die. She worked her way into the Great Hall and took in everything around her. The cries of agony, from injury or from losing someone she couldn't tell, the barking of orders from anyone helping to heal the injured, the sight of everyone moving in blurs around her as if she didn't exist to anyone, the tingling sensation of magic still in the air. Once she felt she had gathered herself enough to sit and be around all the chaos, McGonagall approached and asked for her help, and she promptly went to work.

She had been offered a job at the Ministry, whatever department she wanted. Ron and Harry had been offered expedited entrance into the auror training program and had readily accepted. Hermione on the other hand held off. What sense would it make to rush into being an adult? What sense would it make to not complete the education she had strived for so long to be the best at? What sense would it make to jump into a new job in a new environment without taking the time to properly process everything that had happened to her and how she felt about it? It wouldn't. So she turned down the offer.

This was the year for Hermione to take to herself. She would take the classes she wanted, spend as much time in the library and away from the quidditch pitch as she wanted, and she would be able to just focus on her academics and herself without worrying about someone trying to kill Harry every time he so much as sneezed. Yes, this was her year for herself, nobody else. Which is why she also turned down the offer of Head Girl. She was far from being considered lax, but any responsibilities that could add to her plate that she already had piled high with things she wanted was not in her plan for the year. And now she was aboard the train on her way back to Hogwarts in a compartment with Ginny, Neville, and Luna. She thought it was a rather poetic ending to her last train ride back, to be surrounded by friends and headed to a completely mundane year, while her very first time she had come aboard with no friends, blissfully ignorant to the countless adventures that awaited her.

"Hermione?" She was broken out of her thoughts as she turned her head away from the window to see Ginny looking at her with concern on her face. "You've not said a word since the train started and we're almost there. Sure you're alright?"

Hermione gave her friend what felt like the first genuine smile she had given anyone in months and responded. "Yeah Gin, I think I will be alright. I'm going to go to the loo and change into my robes before we arrive."

As she was headed towards the bathroom to change, she ran into someone who looked like they were just exiting from doing the same.

"Sorry!" She rubbed her forehead where it hit on the other person's collarbone, and looked up into the most enchanting pair of dark brown eyes she had ever seen. She thought she recognized them as the same eyes she would occasionally catch on her way back to her seat in her advanced classes that she shared with Slytherin last year, but couldn't be sure. She looked away from the person's eyes – his eyes- and took in the rest of him.

He had short chestnut colored hair with a naturally occurring part on the right side of his head, making the shorter pieces of his slightly wavy hair more noticeable than the rest on his left side. He had strong, dark brows, and she couldn't decide if the fact that they were slightly bushy made him look more rugged or intimidating. His eyes were almond shaped, and beneath them he had light brown freckles that were scattered across his face starting under the end of each eye and continuing along to meet in the middle on the bridge of his nose. His lips were full, though the top was slightly smaller than the bottom with a cupid's bow, and were a dusty rose color, which was a compliment to the light complexion he held. A slightly chiseled jaw with a square shaped chin finished the picture for her and Hermione thought that if he smiled, there would be dimples created in the hollows of his cheeks. She wasn't sure why, but she had the urge to discover for sure if that was true.

Before she could excuse herself and save further embarrassment from the blatant ogling she just did though, someone behind her cleared their throat obnoxiously to get her to move out of the aisle. She was already in mid-step to flatten her back against the windows of the compartment behind her so the person could pass through when she felt an elbow in between her shoulder blades push her forward, causing her to fall into Mr. Dreamy. Hermione righted herself, noticing that the guy she was forced to fall into was still holding her elbow, and looked up just in time to see Romilda Vane's smirking face. If Hermione had never growled in her life before, she had now. "That girl's a menace! Just like Rita Skeeter! I want to put her in a bloody jar and see how smug she comes out then."

"I find it hard to believe that you would keep someone in a jar." Hermione moved her eyes away from Vane's retreating form and placed them back on the face in front of her that had one eyebrow quirked. Hearing that undeniably aristocratic, though not haughty, voice she was sure it was the same guy from the advanced classes she shared with Slytherin. She discreetly moved her elbow out of his grip.

"Oh, erm no, I just-, look, I'm sorry I ran into you." She frowned and looked back down the aisle where Romilda had been and added, "Twice." She offered a tight smile and finally made it to the bathroom door to change. Just before she had opened the door to enter, she thought to at least ask his name, assuming that they would probably be in the same classes this year since NEWT level lessons included all houses. When she looked to where he was standing though, all she could see was the back of him, already halfway down the aisle towards the back of the train. There was something about the way that he walked that struck her as unusual, something she couldn't put her finger on though she knew it was familiar somehow. It was in the way he effortlessly glided and managed to still emanate a manly presence doing it, it was almost…graceful.